Before making a home in NYC I spent one season living in South Lake Tahoe. I split my ski time between Kirkwood and Heavenly, and had countless spectacular days on the mountain. One perfect spring day, I ascended upper California on the Canyon lift, and discovered the High Roller Terrain Park to be overrun with what we non-park skiers call “Park Rats.” Baggy pants, oversized neon jackets, skull candy headphones and helmetless, they were all over the park and the California side like rats in a New York City kitchen.

After asking around I learned that these rats had descended upon South Lake Tahoe for South Shore Soldiers (SSS), a Park/Pipe/Freeride Spring Break Ski Camp that’s been operating at Heavenly for many years. While I liked to pretend that they were annoying because they spent their days banging themselves up in the park when I thought it’d be preferable to spend time riding the whole mountain and finding powder stashes, I was curious, and just a little envious as I watched campers learning the ins and outs of safely riding the park.

After nursing a jealousy throughout the 06/07 season that Ben was able to throw 3s in the park, I considered signing up for an 2008 Soldiers session. And so, just a few months shy of 30, I threw down $500 to become one of those rats and spend three days destroying my body. Ben & I recruited a few other “Soldiers” (Matt- epiclines, Sarah, and Scott), I secured time off from work for “Spring Break,” booked some deluxe rooms at the oh-so-glamorous Best Tahoe West, packed Costco-size bottles of Aleve, and descended upon South Lake Tahoe.

Scott, Matt, and Ben arrived for the proper start of camp and had orientation on Monday and their first park day on Tuesday. Sarah & I arrived late Tuesday night (I didn’t think the bosses at work would let me have yet another full week off for skiing after Utah in January, so I worked a short week), the boys picked us up and we beelined for some of the best late night West Coast grub: In-N-Out. We crashed for a few hours of precious sleep before our first proper day together.

WEDNESDAY / We woke up to what I consider to be an almost perfect spring ski day in Tahoe… bluebird skies, sparkly snow, and a little nip in the air with a promise of warm afternoon conditions. I love me some powder, but spring skiing is really a great way to wind down a season. I was a mix of emotions walking into the SSS HQs at the Cal Bar, but began to settle into a general feeling of psyched-ness upon meeting the one, the only, the amazing Rich Marlowe, our coach.

The unshaven, baggy sport jersey wearing, boyish-looking, 28-year-old Rich made his way to Tahoe a few years ago from Cleveland. He’s on the Heavenly freeride team, rocks the park with a specialty in rails, and spends his off-snow time spinning as a DJ (the one, the only, Dick Nasty) and most likely breaking hearts all around the lake. He’s conversational, positive, fun, knows his way around the park, is an enthusiastic and excellent coach, and was definitely our biggest believer. Check out Rich at:

http://www.skiheavenly.com/mountain/parks_pipes/team/rich_marlowe/

After booting up we headed to the on-snow bunker. Every year SSS has a park custom built into the High Roller Terrain Park under the Canyon lift on the California side. Halfway through the SSS park is the staging area where we barbecue around lunchtime, take our breaks and hits of Aleve, and watch the other campers doing sicko stuff through the park. The three big features in the private park were: A butter box (kicker over a 10-15 foot gap) to a long, raised “box” of snow that resembled a stick of butter, with a small lip off the other end to the runout), the road gap (raised bit of snow that stops suddenly at a perpendicular cat track, so you fly off the raised bit of snow, “gapping” the cat track, and land on the steep, groomed pitch below), and the most massive of massive kickers at the very end of camp, which has a super steep and long runout, and is right next to the chairlift, giving the Tahoe gapers a bit of a show.

Beyond the SSS Private Park, there’s Groove Park (the beginner’s park), Powderbowl Park (which we started calling Powderhood after Ben’s neighborhood in Park City), and the public part of High Roller Park.

Rich took us to Groove to warm up. Sarah & I started with the basics of proper kicker technique: a firm, wide stance as you work up the tranny, an ollie, or pop, off the lip, solid and balanced air with an optional safety grab, and a smooth landing.

Due to my age, an understanding of the bad things that can happen in a terrain park and my last experience in a terrain park (stitches from crashing in the halfpipe at Killington last season, look below for an entry on that), I was mighty nervous to get started. I calmed my nerves remembering that being coached on snow is not a new thing for me… years of ski racing and summer ski camps always presented scary challenges where I needed to have faith in my mentors and simply absorb their lessons and put them into practice.

I put my faith into Rich’s expertise, and quickly advanced to understanding the basic physics of working up the kicker, feeling comfortable soaring through the air, and dialing in a solid landing. By the end of the day I made it through all the kickers in Groove, 1 & 2 in Powderhood (Powderhood is one step up from Groove but not as big and badass as High Roller or the SSS private park). I managed to avoid crashing at all, locked in some solid safety grabs and started working on my mute grabs. All in all, I was on a high when we made our way down, all in one piece, to the Cal Bar at the end of the day.

After an early dins at Baja Fresh/Nap/Quickie Run/Shower/Aleve, it was time to pre-game. We christened the Shot-Ski to its first Tahoe experience and headed to the Tudor Pub to hear Rich spin and have some cocktails, practice our card tricks, and talk about our epic day with the other campers and coaches. Ben & Sarah went too big during pre-gaming and had to leave early, and a few hours later Scott kind-of got in a fight so the rest of us headed back to the good old BTW.

THURSDAY / We were moving slowly Thursday morning. I rallied the troops with some caffienation and eggy sandwich goodness from Alpen Sierra and we set up for another sun-kissed spring day in the parks. My hit list for the day was a little aggressive: I wanted to attempt a 3 (360º spin in the air), hit both #3 in Powderhood and either #1 or #2 in High Roller, and improve my mute grab. After some solid warm-ups through Groove, I asked Rich if he thought I was ready for a 3. He said I had the airtime and that I should go for it. On my first attempt I made it all the way around, landed on my feet but slid out. I can’t tell you how happy I was! Same thing happened on the second, but it already began to feel more comfortable. The form had a ways to go, but I was certainly proud of the start.

The day flew by. After my 3s in Groove I was feeling confident and ready to attack my other targets on the hit list. In Powderhood I went for bigger air and dialed in my safety and mute grabs, slowly improving my mutes and finally building up the courage to hit #3. I also started to understand how my body processes the park. My first attempts leave me with the general feeling of being in a car crash. Then, through repetition and practice, the discomfort moves to comfort, and then onto actually enjoying the experience and having fun. I then realize I’m ready to step it up and try something new.

The group decided to split in the afternoon because Sarah and Matt wanted to go back to Groove to work on their hit lists, but Ben & I wanted to stay in High Roller and Powderhood. Rich set us up with coaches Nick and Kenyon for the afternoon. Note: These kids are in high school. No joke. Almost-30-year-old me was being coached by some high schoolers. If there was ever proof that I’m living some sort of Peter Pan lifestyle, it was this.

After locking #3 in Powderhood, I set my sights on #1 in High Roller, looking back, my biggest challenge of camp. It took me five painful attempts to dial it in.

So the jumps in High roller, for a little, meek park rat like me, are big and scary. The tranny is long and neverending. The deck is big and just looking at it makes one cringe thinking of the pain that would ensue upon casing or knuckling. Rich spent considerable time explaining that, if you’re nervous and trying a new jump, it’s probably better to go big rather than go small. Why? Because the kickers in High Roller are so big that I would never overshoot. But if I’d undershoot, I would wreck myself on the knuckle or deck. And that is much more painful than making a solid landing and skiing out or at least crashing on a downward slope.

So here we go: Karmageddon’s Five Attempts to Nailing #1 in High Roller…

/1/ Ben was up at the top, and I nervously took off. I fully absorbed Rich’s advice, and went…. Enormous. I went flying up the tranny, to the great unkown of the edge. I cannot explain to you how scary it is working up a wall of snow with just sky above you. I ollied, and did not simply clear the deck. I soared beyond it. I marveled at the runout below. I overshot in a major way, and to Nick’s show, slammed into the runout just below the top half of it and went rocketing, on my butt and back, at an ungodly speed, toward the pinetrees on the side of the run. I prepared for the impact, thinking that this was going to be the end of not only my Soldiers week, but my ski season, but managed to stop before the trees. Shaking with adrenaline, I made my way to the lift… ready for more!

/2/ Nick advised me to take one or two nice GS turns before the heart of the tranny. Snow can change through the day, and the tranny was running fast this afternoon. Hoping to ollie and hit the landing in control, with not too much air, I pulled what I am calling the “Double Ejection Slip-n-Slide.” I went up, and came down right on the edge of the knuckle, but my skis stayed right there, nicely and neatly sitting side by side on the knuckle, and I went flying down the runout on my belly, just like we did when we were kids racing down the Slip-N-Slide! My chest ached with pain at the impact and slide, but I got up laughing hysterically at what had happened. It was a good show for all spectators and the chairlift!

/3 and 4/ Two more painful knuckles. The skis were far enough beyond the knuckle that they stayed on, but the impacts were definitely taking a toll on my knees.

/5/ And finally, my moment of glory. One GS turn, a nice, balance, powerful ollie, and I flew over the deck and landed just perfectly on the runout.

I made a few more runs through High Roller, on a high and hitting #1, each time reaching down for a safety or a rough mute. We returned to camp triumphant, but the other soldiers were in a sad state. Scott was experiencing serious toe-bang and not feeling well, and Matt, in his attempt to nail a 3, had his leg twisted around in his boot and was barely able to put weight on his leg. We slowly made our way back to Gunbarrel, and Ben & I, as though our bodies had not taken enough of a beating, skied one terrible run down the face.

FRIDAY / Friday morning Ben, Sarah & I sent Matt and Scott to the emergency room so Matt could figure out what was wrong with his leg, then we headed to Cal Bar for our last day of camp. Sadly, Rich had to work that day. So we had Martin, a high schooler from South Lake Tahoe High, as our coach. For all the talking and enthusiasm that exudes from Rich, Martin radiates a quieter, more laid-back style. At first I was nervous that Martin wouldn’t give me the direction and feedback that my Type-A personality (yes, even in the terrain park) demands, but I soon realized that Martin is just as on top of coaching as is Rich.

Ben & I were on our own for the morning since Sarah had a conference call, so we only did a few runs through Groove since that park is simply too small for Ben. I locked in a few 3’s, and decided that my two goals for the day would be to dial in a solid mute grab and attempt a 3 on one of the bigger jumps to be found in Powderhood.

I spent most of the remainder of my last camp day slamming my butt painfully into the rear area of my bindings. When I ollied and went for a mute, instead of bringing my legs up under me, I was kicking them out to grab. This put me in the back seat each and every time for my landings. My knees, lower back and butt suffered as a result. Ben was locking in bigger and better 3s, throwing them solidly and easily in both Powderhood and High Roller, but his shin-bang was horrible after just a few runs, and he began to think he might have to quit early in the afternoon.

Since I was having trouble with my Mutes, Martin encouraged me to try Japan grabs. I quite enjoyed them… a Japan grab is where you take your hand and grab the inside of the opposite ski behind the back of the binding. It’s like a tricksy safety and looks cool in the air. The rest of the day consisted of locking in grabs, one attempt at a 3 off #1 in Powderbowl (I was too scared so only got about 250 around, even though I had the air. Ben decided to spend the last few runs of our day working on his photog skills and locked in some great shots of me and some of the other skiers.

The day wound down, and we soon found ourselves facing the last run on the last day of Soldiers. I was eager to hit #1 in High Roller once more and then head down to Powderhood for one last attempt at a 3 off #1. Ben skied down to #1 in High Roller, yelled over to Rich, who was working on the rails nearby to watch me (“Rich, watch Jenny. She’s going to do something cool!”), and signaled for me to hit it. I went in hot… SUPER hot. The snow was faster and the wind was in my favor, I ollied hard, went in for the Japan, made the grab, and just kept going… and going… I was overshooting in a major way. I had so much air that my body started tipping forward and I ended up smacking the snow with… my face.

I got up to Rich running over with my other ski. I started to feel blood seeping from my nose. When Rich asked if I was okay, I smiled and asked if my teeth were bleeding, then said I felt okay and just wanted to head to the camp for a quick rest.

Ben and I sailed into camp and I quickly popped off my skis and sat down. He started sharing what I had done with the camp leaders and other campers, and they were asking if I was okay. I felt a little shaken up, but generally felt fine.

Ben took a seat next to me, and after looking around and assessing the scene, I turned to him and asked: “Ben, where are we? What chairlift is that?” Mind you, not only have I been skiing at Heavenly almost every winter for 10 years, it was, for one season, my home mountain. And all of a sudden I didn’t know where I was?

Yes, dear readers, it was a concussion. They started asking me to remember numbers and names, all of which proved difficult. But after only a short while I was able to remember their numbers and names, and I was popping on my skis for a shaky ride down to Gunbarrel. I walked away with a sore head, a puffy and cut right cheek and eye, a sore and slightly bruised wrist, and a yellow and bruised left elbow.

We made it home to discover Scott incredibly sick (with what he thought was Strep) and Matt in possession of crutches with the diagnosis of having a severe bone bruise. Matt, Sarah, Ben & I rallied for the famed SSS Awards Ceremony and Mechanical Bull Night. I am excited to say that I shared the “most improved” for our group with Ben. For this title I won some super cool schwag, which I sported the following freeskiing day. Rich had some very nice words for his elderly group, and I stood up and complimented the Soldiers camp (For the record, my days as a soldier were enough to prove to me that the camp is excellent… I highly recommend it!). We stuck around the party for a little while, then made our way back to BTW, our old, weary bones ready for a good sleep.

As you might note, it’s been a few months since Soldiers. Those first two weeks back in New York, I sought out any opportunity to show off my bruises and cuts, to eagerly share a few sentences about how badass we were, and, in the comfort of my desk chair and studio, nurse my hurt and broken body. I finished reading Anthony Bourdain’s “Kitchen Confidential,” a book about his rise to celeb chef status in cutthroat NYC kitchens through the 80s and 90s, and found a sentence, written about being a chef, that I thought applied to one of the reasons I love skiing, and more specifically, why I love at least pretending to be a park rat: “I’m asked a lot what the best thing about cooking for a living is. And it’s this: to be a part of a subculture. To be part of a historical continuum, a secret society with its own language and customs.”

I’m not thinking every day about Soldiers anymore. But when a memory surfaces, or a word from the “park rat lexicon,” comes to mind, I always smile and IM Ben as quickly as possible to declare: “I miss Soldiers.” I was dead-set on returning next year, but now I’m not so sure. I don’t know if my bank account or my body can handle much more of what I occasionally view (in my aging years) as an immature pursuit of recklessness. Clearly I’ll never be a park or ski movie star, so why am I so eager to get to the park? I keep returning to Bourdain’s quote, and the simple fact that, when I reach that level of comfort with a trick or a jump it’s just plain exhilarating.

Lately my thoughts have turned to putting my mind, energy and finances toward more lifetime sustainable types of skiing, like backcountry and exploration of resorts I haven’t visited, and international ski travel. However, Ben & I share a certain weakness when it comes to skiing: We don’t know how to say no. And I am already mighty scared for when March 2009 rolls around. We might not be able to say no to one last battle with the South Shore Soldiers, on the trannys of High Roller Terrain Park in Heavenly, California.

A piece of ski gear most often overlooked is perhaps the most important. Without it the best ski resorts. backcountry areas and powder days are unreachable. The item in question is of course the ski car. Everyone has features they love: heated seats, an awesome rack system, a navigation system, a rockin stereo for pumping up in the parking lot, stickers showing all the places where the owner has skied, and perhaps others I am forgetting or haven’t considered. However, the defining feature of a ski car, whether it is a 1982 Ford pickup or a brand new Range Rover is that it must transport the skier and accompanying crew to the mountain reliably on any ski day. (No car that I found can make it up Little Cottonwood Canyon when the road is closed, though I’m sure Subaru is working on it.) For six ski seasons, my 2002 Subaru Impreza 2.5RS provided excellent sking transportation.

After an epic winter in Park City, I decided that both my car and I did not have to leave, and rather than putting another 2000 miles and extra wear and tear on her, it seemed the right time to sell the car to another worthy owner (or at least someone who would pay a fair price.) Four months of hard winter driving in Utah had left its mark on my car, so Andy was nice enough to help get it ready to be sold. After several hundred dollars worth of maintenance, and a good scrub on the inside she was ready to show. Not suprisingly, I had several responses to my Craigslist posting, and the first interested buyer offered nearly what I was asking. For privacy reasons, I won’t provide many details here, but suffice it to say that the buyer was very excited about the car, and will use it to ski Snowbird all next winter.

The first ski trip in my Impreza was a day trip to Killington, VT in October of 2002, yes October. Killington had received a freak early season storm, and I was eager to begin my post-college ski career. The conditions weren’t great, but we made it up and back safely. From that point on, my Subaru would become a fixture in weekend trips to ski houses in Killington, and never was any East Coast storm too much to prevent us from getting there. Curt and Jenny in particular appreciated the Subaru’s prowess at Killington, and they are among the very few who I’ve let drive it up there. I wanted to give each of them one of the license plates, but I learned today that I have to turn them into the Massachusetts RMV, unless I want to purjor myself and say I lost them. If you asked the Impreza what her favorite road at Kilington was, she’d likely respond with East Mountain Road, leading to the Bear Mountian base area: windy and steep with great views, perfect for blasting Billy Talent before a day of moguls and park.

Any accomplished skier, will say that a skier has not really skied until they have taken a trip out West. The same may also be said for ski cars. Though my Impreza had always done will shuttling us back and forth between Boston and Killington, I always wondered how it would do out West. Every time I’d land in an airport in Colorado, Utah, Tahoe or British Columbia, I wished my own ride would somehow be waiting for me instead of the slow shuttles and crappy rental cars. Spending a winter in Park City this year, we’d have our chance. She did quite well on the way out across the country, though the gas mileage wasn’t great with four pairs of skis on the rack. I also never had any trouble getting to the mountains for 83 days of skiing over the course of the winter.

However, my Subaru did not escape the winter unscathed. She sufferd two broken windows, one from a road pebble cracking the windshield, and a smahsed rear window from a drunken seasonal worker. I also blew a tire, likely on an I-80 pothole. In addition, there were a couple dicey situations that required pushing. Neither of these can be blamed on the car, rather my cheapness and/or laziness in not getting snow tires. The first incident occured on the steep road between Snowbird and Alta, on a weekend when two feet of snow fell in Little Cottonwood. With me and two passengers in the car, we got stuck on a steep part of the road. My two buddies pused admirably, but it wasn’t until the road crew came by dumping cinders that we found enough traction on the performance tires to make it up the hill. A second similar situation occured at Jaime’s parents’ house up on the mountain at the Canyons. They have a rather steep driveway, located at 7500 feet, and it receives a ton of snow. After skiing on a powder and stormy day, Joe and I returned to the car to find it quite snowed in. I had to push with everything I had to get it out of the driveway. Based on these two incidents, I made sure to warn the new owner to buy snow tires before attempting serious winter driving.

While I was very happy to have sold my car, it was not without a bit of sadness that I took her on our last skiing adventure to Snowbird for some unexpected Memorial Day weekend powder. Well, it wasn’t The Greatest Snow On Earth, but it was better than any snow I’d skied so late in the season, and I was happy for some last quality time with my car before selling it. It has been an awesome ride, and though my next ski car will probably have a faster engine, a nicer interior, and more overall features, I can’t imagine that it will rack up as many ski days or memories as did the Impreza RS.

The ultimate skiing experience, most often found memorialized in ski movies, is to be dropped off at the top of an exposed mountain peak by helicopter to ski thousands of vertical feet of untracked powder. From a single day of heli-skiing on glaciers and backcountry peaks near resorts such as Snowbird and Whistler for just south of a 1000 dollars a day, to week-long, exoctic and unthinkably expensive expeditions to remote areas of British Columbia, Alaska, and even the Himalays, several variants of this dream are made available to skiers willing to part with a Utah snow storm’s worth of cash. I knew that at some point I would make the investment in a heli trip, but under what circumstances I never really fathomed, or really dared to forsee. The trick was to find a balance between financial sensibility (being able afford the flight), and being young enough in my skiing prime to really kill it. After spending a winter in Utah, and working hard for my new startup company, the end of this season seemed to be the right time to reward myself.

I’d been talking about going heli-skiing for the latter half of the winter with my friend Sarah, who seemed foolish enough to drop the coin with me. Following a particularly frustrating afternoon of skiing at Snowbird, where there wasn’t enough powder to cover up the layer of hard crust left by a warming and cooling cycle, that was also cut short for both of us by equally frustrating conference calls, we needed something to cheer us up. So we decided, after our calls, to stop by the Wasatch Powderbird Guide heli skiing office in the Snowbird Center base lodge, and just see what was involved, nothing more. 20 minutes, and 900 dollars (each) later, we were booked to fly on my last weekend in Utah, March 30.

No potentially epic experience requires as much management of expectations as does heli-skiing. Health, weather, snow quality, terrain, guides, and other skiers, all have a huge impact on whether or not the day materializes into the best skiing of your life, or a dismal disappointment. The first three are more or less predictable, while the last three are quite unknown, especially for the first-timer. Each is worth addressing in some detail, even though I may have to digest a bit first (someone please get the Ali-g reference, lest I look like more of an idiot than him.)

Common sense would have the would-be heli-skier take it easy in the weeks leading up to a flight. Of course I would not follow such a course given that it was my last few weeks of my epic Utah winter. I managed to make it through a week of brutal jumps, hard impact landings, partial rotations, and whipeouts at South Shore Soldeirs camp in Lake Tahoe without incurring more than a minor concussion and some shin-bang. However, on the thursday before my sunday flight, I tweaked my right MCL quite badly on a pretty innocuous tree run with Jaime at the Canyons. I caught my ski in a poorly covered, but grabby mogul, and I felt it. Nothing popped, but when I gathered myself, I could feel a looseness in my knee that was quite frightening. I skied back to Jaime’s house at the Colony, where even those wonderful premises couldn’t cheer me up. I could put pressure on both edges, turning both ways, but I was still very uneasy. My knee hurt a lot, I could slip it out off place more easily than my left knee, and I was feeling kind of nauseaus. All I could think of was, did I end my season a week early, and more importantly, would I be able to heli-ski Sunday? After two days of rest, icing, an obscene amount of advil, and a few drinks, I skied at Snowbird on Sunday, and the Canyons on monday. I was able to ski aggressively, but with the thought ever in the back of my mind, what if I fall again? Would my knee go completely? Not thoughts I wanted during my dream day of skiing.

When I wasn’t sure whether I’d be healthy enough to ski Sunday, I was quite hoping we’d have clouds, wind, a snow storm or any weather preventing us from flying. If the birds can’t fly on your scheduled day, you can get a full refund. If they do fly, you are on the hook for it. As Sunday approached, it became clear that there would be a storm coming in and the next potentilly clear fly-day would be Tuesday. Sunday morning, we called WPG and they told us that we wouldn’t be skiing, no big suprised, but a releif as I had not yet tested my leg. At the very least, I wouldn’t be out 900 bucks for nothing. However, after skiing went suprisingly well on Sunday at Snowbird, I rebooked for Tuesday, as that appeared to be a clear day. The temperatures were unseasonably cold, and nearly 2 feet of snow feel in the days leading up to Tuesday. As of monday night, snow quality and weather appeared to be just perfect, and I went to sleep as excited as I was before a day at Greek Peak when I was 13, and Tuesday morning, at 6:30am, we got the call that went something like, “Good morning, this is Wasatch Powderbird Guides, today is a fly-day, we’ll see you at the heli-port at 8:00am”.

The unpredictables, of terrain, guides, and fellow skiers, were still unknown, as Sarah and I drove up Little Cottonwood Canyon on one of the most crisp mornings I could remember all season. In fact, it is these factors that had composed the lions’s share of reservation about heli-skiing. I was worried, that they’d bring us to terrain that was too tame to really enjoy because they were worried about our ability. I envisioned unbareable frustration at being placed in a group with a bunch of rich gapers who had to spend the whole day shredding powder in a pizza wedge or looking for their skis that had fallen off. And finally, I was fearful of guides who, for liability reasons, and maybe part of their own lameness, would have restrict where and how fast we could ski, and ruin the day trying to keep us in too tight of a group.

The day turned out to be fantastic, The snow was incredible; dry and bottomless. The runs were long, and definitely steep enough to enjoy. My second run started with a perfect cornice drop into a 35 degree steep, fairly wide shoot, that seemed to go on forever. This was probably one of my top two or three runs of the season. The other runs were also spectacular. I have to say that taking off in the helicopter and flying over the backcountry around Snowbird was the most incredible aspect of the day. When the helicopter drops you off at the top of a run (not quite a peak), everyone gets out in under a minute, and it takes off, blowing powder snow everwhere. And then it is gone, leaving you with nothing but thousands of vertical of untracked powder to ski.

Nevertheless, some level of each of the afforementioned trepidations came into play. The terrain was great, but by no means epic. The runs weren’t that much different than the backcountry I could easily access at the Canyons, or untracked runs I had at Snowbird simply by waking up a bit earlier than everyone else and/or knowing when the patrol would drop the avalanche gates. The runs were also by no means challenging. I’m a strong proponent of a run is as challenging or extreme as you make it (try bombinb backwards down a green run at PCMR with 1000 beginners on it), but I’d still hoped to feel the same feeling in my stomach I get standing at the top of a line in the Cirque at Snowbird. Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise, as my knee did not bother me once the entire day, though it did leave a bit of an empty feeling at the end of the day.

The other skiers in the group were uninspiring. They were nice enough, and relatively competent skiers, though mostly of the rich variety for whom dropping the cash for heli skiing was not a big deal, and they didn’t seem terribly appreciative of the experience. Nobody in the group was pushing one another to ski better, or charge harder or huck bigger. There was no real high-fiving or any collective stoke that I’d felt sharing Snowbird with my CK friends Jenny and Dlo, hiking the Canyons backcountry for the first times with Sarah, skiing the trees at the Canyons until last chair followed by three hour hot tub sessions at Jaime’s, or riding the High Roller Terrain Park at Heavenly with the Soldier’s crew; another empty feeling.

The guides seemed to be good skiers, but in my opinion, it’s the guide’s job to give everyone a fulfilling day, in addition to a safe day. While the guides were excellent at providing the later, they never asked what kind of terrain we liked to ski, or what terrain features or aspects we were interested in finding, or what each of us hoped to get out of the day. They claimed to be interested in finding us the best snow, but in several instances, we traversed down to areas that looked like not as good as runs that started higher up and were more wide open, without explanation of why something was unsafe, or why we chose the runs we did. Simply, that one was more north facing and had better snow. While I was appreciative of them finding the best snow, some steep aspects, with at least some dangerous terrain features would have made the day a bit more exhilerating. If I were to provide a close comparison of my guides to our badass coach Rich Marlowe at South Shore Soldiers, you might think we were taken heli skiing by Mr. Rogers. I know it is their job, above all, to keep everyone safe, but I was hoping for a bit more inspiration along the way.

If it seems as though I am complaining, I don’t really mean to. I knew each of these possibilities, and I was well prepared to accept them, since I knew my first heli-skiing day would be unfortgettable regardless, and that I would have unbelievable skiing of some sort. And I certainly did. I don’t take for granted the cold deep snow, the bluebird day, and my leg holding up miraculously well; I am eternally thankful to the snow gods for what they have provided. I am more attempting to explain the details and implications of heli-skiing out of a resort, and lead up to what I hope to do next winter. Nevertheless, when our day was sacked after four (of seven) runs by wind making the heli-pilot uneasy, I was not too disappointed to receive a healthy refund.

In my mind, I consider this refund a down-payment on my week-long heli trip to Tordrillo, Alaska, or Bella Coola, British Columbia where I will go with a crack-team of my best friends and passionate skiers, where hopefully the extra cost and inaccessibility to resort goers, will allow the guides to take us to terrain more resembling runs layed down by the likes of Seth Morrison and the late Doug Coombs. Invitations to follow…

There have been two notable ski season accessories that have required a little bit of Miss Karmageddon’s design prowess.

In the fall of 2007, after spending a crisp fall weekend with Ben and Matt in New York during which we got psyched for the upcoming ski season, I had a stroke of genius… all the skiing and partying we would be doing together required the ultimate ski party accessory: a Shot-Ski. I dedicated all my spare time for three weeks to construct it, giving myself a deadline of Ben’s imminent arrival in Utah as the ideal time to make the delivery.

So I picked up a free pair of Elans from some guy living on the Lower East Side, custom designed a topsheet that was a combination of kitchy ski illustration and type, and then built a prototype. I spent all of one Friday night printing, laying down and gluing the topsheet. From the prototype I figured out where I needed to adjust the thickness and sidecut of the topsheet, made some changes to the type and illustration layout, figured out exactly where I wanted the shot glasses, and changed my glue strategy. After my regular Saturday work shift at Williams-Sonoma I spent a few hours making the real Shot-Ski with the other ski. I let the topsheet/glue adhere for the remainder of the night, then sealed it with some acrylic spray.

A subway trip, reveal session at work (my über-cool work buddies didn’t really understand why I would dedicate umpteen hours to design some fancy way to take shots, so their über-cool factor went down a few points), trip to PostNet, and $50/FedEx charge later, the Shot-Ski was on its way to Utah. It didn’t see much action until Barna visited Ben in Utah, but it’s taken off like a loose ski sans brake on a groomed World Cup run, getting many-a-session started around Park City and in South Lake Tahoe.

Some pictures of the Shot-Ski will follow shortly.

Design project two… I never wanted a tattoo until two years ago, when I struck upon the only design I would want on my body that I thought I could be happy with for life… a snowflake. That might’ve been the cheesiest sentence you’ve ever read, but considering my passion for winter and our favorite wintertime activity, it clicked.

I finally had a little snowflake tattooed on my body on Monday, March 10. What’s prevented me from getting a tattoo earlier than now was my inability to carve out time to design it. I found Thomas, my artist, by commenting on a woman I passed in Barnes & Noble that had line art of a paisley print on her chest. Turns out Thomas works at NY Adorned with Stephanie Tamez, the artist that specializes in letterform tattoos and that was heavily featured in Ina Saltz’s book about typographic body art.

I knew I wanted extremely thin and subtle line art, on my lower left back. I spent about 5 hours playing around with various approaches, adding and subtracting elements to my snowflakes. Rebecca, my design partner in crime, also chose the one I liked as her favorite.

Rebecca has been reserving the “witness spot” for two years. She’s been my biggest supporter, she even bought me a clip art book of snowflakes so I could get the design juices flowing (and she bought it ages ago—it really has taken me forever to get my act together!). We had a great Italian dinner at Frank then went to my appointment. Her handiwork with the digital camera captured the action (below). Of course, I was in serious need of a couple of cocktails post-inking, and Ally, Jen and Hayley met us at 55 Rivington post-procedure to get a look at the art.

It’s 11pm and I’m in the middle of the Nevada desert in a Range Rover Sport with 5 pairs of skis on the roof. Where could I be going? Tahoe baby, Tahoe. Seven hours ago I was in Park City, UT packing afer a solid powder day at the Canyons. Yesterday we skied the goods at Snowbird. This may very well end up being the best 9 day vacation I’ve ever had.

Heading out of Salt Lake City we saw some pretty awesome landscapes. The Great Salt Lake itself was enormous and oddly void of any boats or marinas. Even more barren was the terrain that followed with miles of flat dirt and tumbleweeds but with mountains (most were actually not snow-capped) in the distance. When we reached the Bonneville Salt Flats we couldn’t resist pulling over and drving in. Not sure what was in that ground but clearly nothing will ever grow there. Crossing into Nevada it definitely looked like the moonscape people had described to us.

Despite being in the middle of nowhere, we couldn’t be more connected. I’m writing this from Ben’s laptop which is connected to the net through his blackberry. Both are connected to the Rover’s extra power sources. Other gadgets currently hooked up include a radar detector which is allowing us to cruise nicely at 85mph, and an ipod which is helping us to rock out as well as stay awake. Oh, we also had a viewing of Ski Porn an hour ago on the the laptop and sent the audio through the car’s stereo. Sarah, the owner of this fine vehicle also hooked us up on the grub, crafting some restaurant quality sandwiches in the back seat while Ben took his turn driving and I manned the ski movie/music selection.

We should be at our hotel in Reno in about a half hour according to the car’s trip computer, at which point we might be inclined to hit the tables and celebrate a solid weekend. But Sarah is catching a flight to Seattle at 7am (which is why we’re staying in Reno tonight) so maybe we’ll just call it a night, Ben and I are debating whether to hit Squaw or Heavenly tomorrow. Right now it’s looking like a game time decision. Should be the start of an awesome week though.

DISCLAIMER: I might totally destroy any and all karma I have cultivated this season by posting these, but I’m hoping that by implicating myself I can avoid any karmic repercussions.

This season four members of the CK West crowd have had their most epic yard sales happen at Snowbird. Ben briefly mentioned Jamie’s stupendous tree/chute/cliff roll in late February (which, admittedly, I did not see happen). What he failed to mention, however, is that the ‘bird managed to steal both of Jamie’s poles.

Score:
Bird 1 CK West 0

Fast forward to March 14th, an EPIC powder day the ‘bird. A leisurely bomb down an untracked Cirque resulted in yours truly unclipping and losing a ski on an approximately 45 degree pitch. Ben was already a good 70 yards ahead when he looked back to find me looking around for my ski. Five minutes past with no sign of the ski anywhere in the foot of powder. As I continued to look Ben went down the mountain to catch the tram back up and help me search. I was sure it would be found shortly and that we’d meet at the tram. Minutes (and numerous trams) passed as I searched in vain. Ben finally arrived back at Cirque 40 minutes later (after waiting for 3 tram cycles) to find me still ski-less and pissed-off. Thankfully within 5 minutes of Ben arriving I found my ski, under what looked like untouched powder, a good 8 feet below where I landed from the fall.

CK West 1 Bird 1

Snowbird on a powder day is phenomenal. Perhaps one of the best areas of Snowbird is Wilbere Bowl - it has a nice pitch, a lot of trees, and is reliably (at least in my experience) less tracked-out than other areas. Such a combination on a powder day can cause uncontrollable euphoria which usually leads to quick turns and high speeds. The only problem with Wilbere Bowl is that it bottoms out at a cat track, to which Ben can attest. You see, Ben found that cat track after bombing out of some trees and, upon compressing the landing, launched himself a good 20 feet down the mountain while his skis sailed a good 30-40 yards further down the mountain. Somehow Ben avoided seriously injuring himself AND he avoided hitting the people on the cat track. We’ll split the points on this one since he managed to recover his skis.

Bird 1.5 CK West 1.5

March 15. The next day found us back at the ‘bird with reinforcements in the form of Matt from the original CK and Sarah, who made her way over from Alta for a few runs. While Matt was waiting patiently for us to meet him at Creekside Cafe, Sarah, Ben and I were making our way down Tiger Tail. Sarah decided to explore skier’s right about 4/5’s the way down Tiger Tail and got herself stuck in an area with really tight trees and a pitch of about 60 degrees where side-stepping down was the only option. Unfortunately, Sarah lost her balance, the result of which was a nasty yard sale which required the attention of Ben and I to climb back up (a good 200 yards up a fairly steep hill) to help her find all her things. About half-way up it was decided that I should go keep Matt company while Ben helped Sarah find her gear. Fifty (50) minutes passed before they made it down to Creekside. And Sarah was down to one glove and one pole.

Bird 2.5 CK West 1.5

Same day. 4:05PM. Ben and I decided to take one last run on Tiger Tail again. Nowhere else (I imagine) can you find such amazing untracked powder at the end of the day on a Saturday. Ben suggested we find where Sarah went in and look for her pole and glove. I commented that the glove was probably still attached to the pole and that we’d find the pole up in a tree near where she fell. Lo and behold, that’s exactly what we found - her red Leki pole and Cloudveil glove adorning a pine tree like Christmas ornaments.

Score
Bird 2.5 CK West 2.5

It’s all tied up now. We’ll see what happens next time.

Having spent my entire skiing experience on the East coast, I’ve always wanted to get to Jay. I’d heard of their legendary snowfall totals, their sick natural terrain and tree skiing, but I never made it further north than Killington. A couple weeks before Thanksgiving we started hatching plans for a road trip that would get us three solid days and a condo on new year’s weekend.

Booking a trip a month in advance is always a bit of gamble as you could get screwed on the conditions, especially early in the season. Fortunately for us, this past December was one of the snowiest in years. By the time Christmas rolled around we knew we were money… Jay was 100% open with 150” of snowfall. With plans to spend New Year’s Eve at our Killington share house following 3 days and 2 nights at Jay, it was looking like it would be an epic trip.

The ride up to Jay Peak from Boston is about 4 hours, but we did it in 4 and a 1/2 due to some hairy conditions on 93N New Hampshire where the rain we left in Boston had turned to a “wintry mix”. Fortunately our two-car caravan of Audis (me in my A6 and Pat in his A4) were up to the challenge and we made no appearances in the median or guardrail. Thank god for the Quattro system… although driving at 45 mph on the highway is incredibly frustrating, I think we passed one major accident and two other cars that had spun off into the snow bank. After getting through Franconia Notch, we found ourselves in rural, way the F up there Vermont. I guess I’d say it was pretty scenic… lots of farmland, silos, and cow x-ing signs, but it became immediately clear that there was not much up there and we’d have to bring our own party.

DAY 1 / Saturday, December 29
Arriving at the base of the mountain was a little like stepping back in time. The white stucco buildings (lodge, tram, and Hotel Jay) seemed like they hadn’t had any work done on them since the early 80s. Kinda like an Austrian look I guess you could say… the other thing you notice is that everything is written in both English and French. I had heard that French Canadians flock to the mountain and it was definitely evident from the start. Makes sense with Canada only 5 miles away. The conditions that morning were not the Jay Peak we had heard about – it was in the mid 30s and raining. The snow was sticky and visibility up top was pretty bad due to low hanging clouds/fog. Still, we skied almost a full day (arrived at 10am) and checked into our condo, which we were psyched to find out was truly ski in/ski out.

I remember when I booked the ski/stay package on the phone with Jay’s reservation system; the girl said there wasn’t much nightlife. She was right. I think the bar at Hotel Jay was the only option, but we were happy to park ourselves in front of the fireplace, the Pat’s game, and a fridge full of beers.

DAY 2 / Sunday, December 30
The conditions improved the next day and we got to explore a lot more of the fabulous tree skiing Jay is known for. Timbuktu I think turned out to be my favorite glade as it had nice soft turns and the trees seemed to be spaced just right. Even in between the trails off the Jet triple, there were nice trees that could be skied. I had read about Jay’s policy… that you can ski anywhere, anything, at your own risk and was psyched to have the snow to do it. For a late December trip, we really couldn’t have asked for more. We skied through lunch, but after putting in an awesome morning and final tree run where Mike and I found the goods, we skied back to the condo for a quick mid-afternoon snack. Truly trailside was nice as we loaded up on some nachos before heading back out. One of Mike’s friends who’s got a share house up there, introduced us to Beaver Pond Glade (far skier’s left) that was a little hairy at the start but proved worth the side-step/hike up to the entry point.

That night we celebrated a solid day with another family dinner, followed by a few drinking games. We settled on “Shoulders” which if you’ve never played, involves memory skills, hand eye coordination, teamwork, and some creativity when new rules are to be invented. Needless to say hilarity ensued and we took the game to new heights, getting hammered and playing for probably two hours. Pat and Aidan also made an appearance in the snow banks out front doing snow angels in their bathing suits as punishment for losing the race on the bunny hill that afternoon. Jenny’s creation, “Feats of Strength” probably should get it’s own post as there has since been modified, more elaborate versions of the race done at Killington and other mountains since then. But essentially, she smoked Pat and Aidan down the hill and as victor got to choose their punishment. I officiated since I felt like working on my switch skiing instead of tucking down a bunny slope. Like everything else, the shot-gunning of beers and snow angel making were well documented on Pat’s camera.

DAY 3 / Monday, December 31
We knew it was snowing when we went to bed but we didn’t realize the treat that we’d wake up to. Six inches of fresh snow had accumulated on our condo’s back deck much to our surprise. I was embarrassed that we had slept till 8 and didn’t get out the door till 8:30 – a sinful act on a powder day. Jenny, Mike, and I hurried over to the tram base to get the first ride in the “box”, as it’s called up there (capacity 60 people – ½ the size of Snowbird’s). We didn’t get the first one, but we weren’t too late as there were still fresh tracks at the summit. To my amazement, Tuckerman’s chute (to the right off the tram) was untouched! We jumped in and realized what those sick days at Jay you hear about are really like. A narrow curving trail of shin deep powder is how you want to start the day. Jenny, who was the first one in, made the mistake of stopping halfway and I couldn’t resist plowing ahead and stealing her line - the conditions combined with the song I had playing in my helmet made the moment too good to pause. The rest of the morning was awesome as we experienced powder conditions rarely found in the east. Mike and I found lots of patches in the trees that were still untracked by mid-day. It was the perfect way to cap off an awesome three days.

The ride down to Killington (central VT) was pretty nice, lots of dairy farms again (mmm… cheese). I hear that in full daylight, or in the summer, Rt 100 is one of the most scenic in New England. We passed through Stowe, which seemed like a nice little ski town – somehow I still haven’t skied there – but no stops as we were on a mission to get back to CK (Camp Killington, our ski house) for the New Year’s festivities.

Overall I’d say that Jay definitely lived up to expectations in the snow quality and tree skiing areas. Some say that Jay is the Jackson of the east… It was definitely the best tree skiing experience I’ve ever had, and I’m sure now that it’s the best place to be in New England during a big storm. One thing though, is that it didn’t have the gnar factor I was expecting, I don’t remember seeing any cliffs… but I guess it’s possible I didn’t explore everything. Also, after three days I felt that I had skied pretty much all of it. Kinda seemed like it might feel small if you were up there for a full season. There is talk of an expansion though, happening in the next year or two. Either way, I’m penciling in a return next winter for another few days of sickness.

I’m not usually one to cave to peer pressure but when I was out with all my Park City friends who are far less techy than me and I was the only one without some sort of smart phone I knew it was time to upgrade. So yesterday I had a bit of time before going to snowbird with Sarah. I messaged Elias Torres to ask which one to get and then headed to the Sprint store. I’m now heading up to Alta blogging in the back seat of Sarah’s Range Rover. Sadly I don’t have abything great to report other than Jamie survived one of the worst crashes I have see involving trees and chutes and a small cliff. Also my friend Jason comes in tonight for a long visit.

I truly have no excuse for waiting until now to share a tale of my winter in Utah, other than perhaps I have had so many incredible experience that to write about one seems to unduly belittle the rest. Nevertheless, I am now going to break the seal, and begin what I hope to be a series of accounts whose purpose is, at the very least, for me to look back and remember how I have spent these four epic months.

It all began Sunday, November 26, two days after Thanksgiving, when I left the familiarity of Ithaca, NY to drive (most of the way) across the country in my Subaru. I’ve never been one for sight-seeing and with Park City, UT waiting on the other end of the journey, I had no intention of stopping to admire anything other than the minimal number of gas stations, Subway’s and hotels required to make the 2000+ mile journey. On day one, I made it to just outside of Chicago (760 miles); by the end of the second day, I was in Cheyenne, WY (900 miles), and by mid-day on the third, I was in Park City.

When I arrived there was already 3 feet of snow on the ground, and every resort was fully open. My first day on the mountain was bound to be an epic powder day. Not so fast. As I cruised on I-80 toward Park City, I tried desperately to catch a glimpse of snow on a mountain. But none was to be seen. It hadn’t snowed in nearly a month, and it didn’t feel that cold out. However, I was still excited to see the condo I had rented for the season. The condo was exactly what I need, spacious, clean, relatively new, and in a good location.  Even though there was no snow, I was itching to do something skiing related so after unloading all my stuff, I hopped into the car and headed to The Canyons to pickup my season pass. I literally had been driving 5 minutes up toward the mountain when it started snowing, and it hasn’t really stopped since.

Despite the abysmal November, Utah received a near-record amount of snowfall in December and January. The Park City resorts have nearly 300 inches, Snowbird nearly 400 inches and Alta well on its way to 500 inches, all surpasses the season totals of last year.  I have had more powder days than the rest of my ski seasons combined, and have had days of skiing I never dreamed possible. Thus far I have skied 48 days, split fairly evenly between Snowbird and The Canyons.

The Canyons is an enormous very spread out, tree-covered resort, that has endless tree runs to explore on powder days. On January 4th, I experienced my first Canyons Powder Day. I couldn’t believe how deep and dry the snow was in the trees. With a report of 6 inches and still falling at 8:00 am, I was skiing knee deep powder all over. And when Ninety-nine 90 (the highest lift servicing the most expert terrain) opened after avalanche control was completed, I was on the third chair. It was the creamiest powder I had ever experienced, extremely steep and untracked, totally blower. I have had many days like this at The Canyons, some sunny and bluebird (level 8 and above), and others completely stormy and whiteout.

When one dreams about big mountain resort skiing, one can only be dreaming about Snowbird. Snowbird is a completely different world from the Canyons. It’s peak, pushing through the clouds at 11,000 feet, services a great variety of wide open bowls, steel chutes, cliffs, hikable areas, and steep tree runs. On a powder day, whenever everything is open, there is no mountain I would rather ski than Snowbird. Skiing Snowbird, however, is not without its difficulties. For starters, the treacherous winding road up Little Cottonwood Canyon often closes for extended periods of time due to avalanche danger and general perils, shutting off access to Snowbird and Alta, save for the lucky few who are staying on the mountaina. Even if you are lucky enough to make it up the road before it closes, on stormy days or those days directly following the storm, much of the terrain remains closed for days due to avalanche work, wind, visibility, and other reasons best known only to the ski patrol. It also very difficult to predict these sorts of closures, making it difficult to decide whether to ski The Canyons, or risk the journey to Snowbird. If everything opens, you will have one of the most amazing ski days of your life. If it doesn’t you may end up waiting in long lines at the few lower mountain lifts that are open dreaming of the higher terrain. Or worse, you can be sitting in your car in line at the Canyon opening for hours, wishing you had just gone to the Canyons where lower magnitude of the mountain often allows it to open more quickly when Snowbird cannot. Worse than that, you decide to bail on Snowbird and ski The Canyons, only to read about about everything opened at The Bird in the afternoon, and it was best day of the season.
My first Snowbird Power day was in mid-december (Snowbird opened much more quickly than The Canyons due to an alarming difference in snowfall). It was a bluebird day and the 3000 foot verticle tram was just opening for the first time. At first, only one run off the tram was open, and was excellent but tracked out very quickly. Then, on my second run up, they announced that most of the front side under the tram would be opening. I got off the tram and mached down the brief traverse and jumped in. The snow was so deep as this was the first time all season it was open. It was cold and sunny, absolutely perfect. I had the entire run, untracked, top to bottom. But skiing early season powder is always dangerous. I was bombing down a steep part out of some trees back onto the groomer, when just before running out onto the flat, I felt my right ski catch a rock under the snow. Now sometimes, these are just scrapes, but this time I knew there was trouble, as I felt the ski drag as I skied on the flat run, and could see snow spraying out from under my ski. I stopped, heart beating fast, and took off my ski. There was a 3+ inch gash, all the way to the core, and about an inch wide. Fortunately, I made friends with the guys at the Canyon’s ski shop and for a case of beer, they took care of me.

I could go on about all the epic days I have had, but that would grow tiresome I’m sure. And while I have had some amazing powder days, I don’t think, from a skiing perspective, I have accomplished anything of great note. I have hit a few small cliffs (less than 10 feet), had some great fresh tracks, and had a few good park runs. However, I have been saving my risk for the second half of the season, where the consequence of a season-ending injury are not as high, and my body is now in supreme skiing shape. By the end of the season, I hope to ski the backcountry at the Canyons and Snowbird (I’m going for my first adventure tomorrow at The Canyons), huck some substantial cliffs at at Snowbird, and step it up in the terrain park, possibly learning a 540 or 720.  If I don’t accomplish all of these, but remain injury free (as I have so far, knock knock), I will be quite happy.

The season has not been without its small mishaps, however. My car window was smashed in by some drunk partiers (the GPS was’nt stollen thankfully) , I busted a tire New Year’s Eve, and a rock cracked my wind shield. I also (2 days ago) broke my Volkl Karma’s and (very regrettably) had to go buy myself a new pair of park-all mountain skis (Volkl Bridges). The hard disk on my laptop crashed at one point, causing nearly a week of downtime for work which was incredibly frustrating and stressful. I also came down with an incredible cold and cough that everyone seemed to have, so I dubbed it the “Park City Plague”. It took nearly 2 weeks to fully recover.

One of the great joys I take in skiing (as the Chronicles of Gnarnia project shows), is spending time with my friends on the mountain and immersing myself in the skiing lifestyle. Just as Utah has not disappointed with snow, it has not disappointing in this former respect either. The first visitor was Lauren, who helped me make my Park City den feel like home, the way only she can. She also came out a second time to celebrate New Years, along with Jon Rosenblatt and his girlfriend Laura. We all felt very grown up, yet young and alive enjoying Park City, UT in such an independent fashion. We ordered everything on the menu at Bangkok Thai on Main Street on New Years Eve.

Part of my initial dream when I was putting the plans for this winter together, was to have all my Killington friends come out for a week, so I could share my dream with them, if only for a brief time. When I sent out the normal email inviting everybody, I expected maybe 2-3 people to commit and buy plane tickets. To my surprise 8 of my friends all booked vacation to come and visit me (in order of appearance:) David Barna, Laura Grip, Matt Dellelo, Jenny Greeve, Katie Coffin, Krissy Helb, Curt Wright, and Brad Prescott, all darkened the doors of what we called CK-West (Camp Killington West, named after our Killington ski house). We had a fantastic week of powder, sunshine, partying like rock stars with Akon, Fiddy Cent, and Paris Hilton (thanks to Krissy’s heroics), and epic family dinners. In short, it was everything I had hoped for. Group dynamics and minor dramas here and there, combined with the Park City Plague, rendered the week a tad more tiring than I expected, but in the end, the wonderful memories and epic face shots and fresh tracks carried the day, and I would have those friends with me every day of the season if I could.

I will conclude this belated introductory post with probably the most wonderful surprise of the entire trip, the new friends I have made here in Park City. It’s not that I ever doubted my ability to make friends in a skiing environment, but when one thinks of young people in a ski town in their mid to late 20’s one thinks of ski bums who didn’t know when to leave and start their life, or trust fund babies who live the dream without appreciating one morsel of it. At the great risk of generalizing, the ski bum types, while often great skiers and interesting people, often have very tight circles, completely devoid of the first-day-of-college-meet-everyone attitude that the 21 year olds right out of college have when they first arrive in town. The rich layabouts lack the passion for the sport and the appreciation of the lifestyle necessary for the type of skiing friendship I seek. What I pleasantly found out about Park City, is the smaller, but very real community of young, successful people, living the skiing lifestyle, but also valuing success in careers and relationship, and in general a balanced life.

I have a made several such friends, mainly stemming from my rather geeky questioning of a guy in the tram line at Snowbird about his Helly Hansen Pants (yes I’m still devoted to HH). We talked a bit and after meeting at the bottom again after an epic run, we exchanged numbers..etc… That is how I met Rob. I didn’t become best friends forever with Rob right away, but he did invite me to a holiday party at his condo that he and his roommates were throwing. There I met Jay and Jaime. Jay is a very passionate snowboarder, though I haven’t had the chance to ski with him yet. Jaime, is another recent east-coast transplant who apart from being a terrific friend and ski buddy, is one of the more avid socialites in Park City, and she has introduced me to many new friends. (Jaime also has very cool house at The Canyons where we stopped after skiing today for snacks). And then there is Josh, whom I met at first on one of those talk for five-minutes-but-immediately-forget chair lift rides at The Canyons, I eventually met again at J’s house party for Jaime’s birthday.  At the risk of sounding trite, Josh has likely become my best friend out here, and someone without whom several opportunities I will hopefully experience would not happen. This is all very confusing, but the upshot is I have far more close friends out here than I ever imagined.

Tomorrow I am finally going to hike the backcountry at the Canyons with yet another new friend, Sarah who I met through my realtor, Brook. We have all our avalanche gear (beacons, probes, shovels, avalungs) ready to go.  We practiced hiding and finding our beacons at Sarah’s friend Lindsey’s house.  The avalanche danger seems to be low to moderate this week, and with the 8+ inches of fresh snow, tomorrow promises to be another truly epic chapter of my life-altering winter.

(Face shots and fresh tracks on The Bookends at Snowbird)

Yes, we have begun the ski season. CoGn’ers have already racked up a few or a lot of days, but we all rocked the preseason so it must be addressed.

A successful preseason involves: [1] Dryland Workouts [2] Increased chatter over phone, text, IM, and email about your excitement levels and skiing/snowfall news [3] Attendance at the new ski movies [4] Season/trip planning.

Check, check, check and check on all of these!

Ski Conditioning is actually one of my favorite things. Nothing gets me more excited to get out and run than good ski music and visualizing myself making big GS turns or tight turns in the glade. I was pretty lazy most of the summer, only managing one half marathon and two cycling centuries, and spending a lot of time in the pool. So I switched workouts to address core strength and speed. I finally started doing ab workouts again, and each weekend hammered out some stair drills on the big stairway in Prospect Park. I also worked in at least one Fartlek run and one hill-climb run. From my few days on the mountain, I can say that the dryland workouts helped.

I cannot tell you how many hours, words, thoughts and ponderings about skiing have been shared on IM, email, and the phone. It’s like a fix I need every day. Ben’s preseason involved getting ready to move his fat ass to Utah, so there was no lack of talk this fall. This inspired some reminiscing on our trip to Utah last March, and I finally got my act together and put some choice pictures together. Check out our trip below…

I love ski movies. Living in New York puts me at a disadvantage to viewing them because I don’t have a huge community of ski friends. I usually have to bribe people to go with PBR and the promise of hot outdoorsy guys. No one could go to the Matchstick premiere of Seven Sunny Days with me, which is too bad because there was no lack of hot guys, the beers were cold, and the movie rocked. Oh yes, I went by myself.

I think MSP did a spectacular job with Seven Sunny Days. They opened the film with the slower-paced The Cold Part by Modest Mouse playing, pans of big mountains, massive air, long lines, and the stars of the film, and the sponsor shout outs embedded into the natural settings with some good photoshop work. Aspects of the film I liked are: [1] Mark Abma’s segment at the beginning – what a phenomenal skier to open with; [2] Colby West’s interview with the accents and his double nose grabs, and of course, him rocking on the Palmer Glacier; [3] THE WINGSUIT SCENE! Are you kidding me? They are doing this? [4] The Whistler Jump Scene with the Fugue in D Minor playing. I give massive props to whomever thought that would be a good idea and whomever did the editing. The jumps were perfectly timed to the pace of the symphony, it was such a different take than the usually fast beats or rap music playing, and then ending with shots of the skiers at sunset was unreal. My mouth was gaping during that segment.

Aspects of the film I’m not so sold on are: [1] The James Bond spoof… upon watching a second time I was a little more entertained, but at the premiere it did seem just a bit too cheese. [2] Miss “I’m Not A Sex Symbol” Sarah Burke. During the movie I was seething with disgust at her cute little faces, Girl U Want by Devo playingand sick lines. However afterward I realized I was probably just jealous and also that if I were in her position I would most likely do the exact same thing. Work it girl, you got ALL the goods!

I was able to rally a few more troops to TGR’s Lost & Found. It was a good flick, but I didn’t like it as much as MSP. Also, why did they show maybe one chick for maybe five seconds? Are they not able to find chicks that rip? Because we DO exist, thank you very much. I did prefer the pre- and post- party/entertainment/venue of TGR. I finally got to speak to my darling Erik Roner (I also let him know that he is my favorite), and we got to witness the awesomeness known as BANG CAMARO.

I bribed Rebecca, Ally, Hayley, and one of Hayley’s friends to go, and drinking started upon entry. So we were all a little confused when, about 20 minutes before the movie, the stage of Webster Hall was invaded by about 20 guys, that proceeded to rock with music reminiscent of your favorite 80’s Metal. How do you process that? We were thinking: is this really the band? Are they really doing this? How the hell do they pull this off? None of us are HUGE 80’s metal fans (okay well I am), but we were COMPLETELY into it. I mean, can you imagine TWENTY guys onstage, dancing and singing and rocking out on the guitar? And we were so excited when the movie ended and they came back out, that we felt compelled to do what we would have done if we were standing front and center, in like 1980, at a Van Halen concert. One of us threw her bra onstage. It earned us a chat with the band post-show. Check out the neck of that guitar in the pic below…

Needless to say, we’re most certainly going to see Bang Camaro when they’re back in the city (end of January if you must know and are dying to join!). Also, you should really see them if they’re near you… www.bangcamaro.com

And this brings us to the last of pre-season activities… planning TRIPS! I have two on the books… one to Jay Peak over New Years (done and done, will write on that next), one to Snowbird in January. I also joined Camp Killington, so I’ll be up there for three weekends, AND I’m hoping my bosses will give me another week off in March so I can head to South Shore Soldiers in Tahoe with Matt & Ben!

<> PRAY FOR SNOW!

One of the main reasons we as skiers chase storms and adrenaline across the world every winter is to experience those days where everything just seems to come together, leaving you with a feeling of accomplishment, exhaustion, and fulfillment.  And unless you are independently wealthy and can spend the winter in style way below the equator where its snowing in July, you have to look for warmer ways to scratch that particular itch.

I had a great time playing Softball with my friends today; I even managed to catch a couple line drives.  I also have been going for evening runs on the Charles River, and hitting the weight room several times a week…several times a week less than I promised myself I would.  I would also be playing soccer and tennis but I’m still rather incapable of lateral movement since I compressed my ankle at Alta in March.  All these things are fun, but they don’t really do it for me.

For this reason,  I started learning Kiteboarding a few summers ago.   Kiteboarding is that sport you sometimes see people do on the HD TV’s at Best Buy or on the Cape or San Fran Bay, where you have a large kite hooked up to you waste, and a light fiberglass board strapped to your feet and you glide across the water and jump effortlessly into the air.  To answer the questions we always get asked by beach goers, “No, its not a snowboard” and “a setup costs about 2000 dollars, and no you shouldn’t go buy one and try it because you’ll kill someone”.

There are a number of reasons for why its taken me a number of years to really get the basics down, most prominent among them that I only get out an average 7 or so days a summer.   Anyway, I can finally say today that I’m no longer a beginner.  I’ve had several heart-pumping days of  flying across the water and into the air (by acccident) learning to Kiteboard in the past, but they still always involved carrying the kite, board, control bar, tangled-seaweed-caked-lines and kitchen sink 300 yards back up the beach after getting blown down wind.

Not today B_____tch (not exactly sure to whom I should direct that)!  Today there was 20-30 inches of extra dry powder, sorry 20-30 mph Southwest breeze at Revere Beach.  The beauty of wind, is that it doesn’t get chewed up by the first 30 guys that drank two cases of Red Bull at 4:00 in the morning to get to the lift line before you.  Of course the wind could die, but its not the same thing.  It was blowing all afternoon, and we were fully lit (lit = kiteboarding lingo for powered up = kiteboarding lingo for enough wind power and kite size to stay on the water) on Joe’s new 9m kite.  For the first time in my kiteboarding career, I was able to go out several hundred and back a few times, and not get blown down wind at all.  It was an amazing feeling after my run to just drop the kite and not have to hike.    Next it’ll be time to take some air.

In other news, Sarah Burke, a pro skier who lights up Matchstick Productions ski films won an ESPY award…..”Best Female Athlete Whose Name is Sarah Burke”..just kidding..it was “Best Female Action Sports Athlete…well done!

A few weeks ago I had the chance to score passes to see Steep, the big mountain skiing documentary by Mark Obenhaus, in the 2007 Tribeca Film Festival.

To brief you, Steep has been pitched as the story of big mountain skiing, a sport that did not exist 35 years ago. It features Bill Briggs, Stefano De Benedetti, Eric Pehota, Glen Plake, Shane McConkey, Seth Morrison, Chris Davenport, Ingrid Backstrom, Andrew McLean, Emily Coombs and the late Doug Coombs.

There was much speculation among my ski community on what my reaction would be to viewing a ski movie directly following the close of my season, and furthermore, how this documentary would compare and contrast to the much-watched, quintessential, regular ski movie by a house like Matchstick, Warren Miller, or Teton Gravity Research.

As a designer with a sensitive eye to the ‘design’ aspects of a film, let me start by saying the titles are beautiful. Understated and translucent against the gorgeous mountain and weather shots. All elements– music, stills, big lines, interview– come together to create a balanced pace to the movie. The soundtrack, completely instrumental, conveys a soulfulness and intensity. The cinematography and editing is magnificent, especially considering these are documentary makers taking their first stab at this type of work. To get a sampling track down the movie preview online; if it doesn’t make your mouth drop with envy and love then you have terrible taste. Obenhaus does comment on the TFF site on the susceptibility and occasional helplessness when shooting at the mercy of the mountains and their weather patterns. There was no need to cover himself; he passed with flying colors.

Obenhaus comments that “It’s always about the story– that’s really where the pleasures of documentaries are– finding it and mining it as you produce.” This is what sets Steep apart from other movies on skiing and what inspired the sense of calm and appreciation I felt from the first minute of the movie. It opens with the story of Bill Briggs and the first descent of the Grand Teton. It moves to the big mountain tradition established in Chamonix and the greater Alps, and then, using The Blizzard of Ahhhhs and the debut of Glen Plake, the story moves to North America.

Steep explores the question of: why do these athletes walk the thin line that separates adrenaline / adventure / endorphins / big lines, and death? The many attempts at answering essentially sum up to: because there is an inexplicable driving force inside these skiers. While I am not of their caliber, I understand this nebulous answer. Each and every one of these athletes is cognizant of the fact that at any moment they could die, and they are at peace with this. There were multiple comments about ‘being a mountain person’ and ‘trying to get a normal job and not being able to’ and ‘being addicted to endorphins…’ haven’t we all thought these thoughts? Haven’t we all looked at our options, and looked at who we are, and have chosen our own path, and for me, at least, a path away from the mountains? Granted these are phenomenal athletes, what differentiates me, and some of you, from them, is that they have faced these questions and have accepted their answers as reality, and have embraced the skier life. For this alone I view these athletes with the utmost respect.

I have had moments of looking back and reconsidering my decision to walk away. Relating back to speculation of how I would react to Steep, it provided another glance in the rearview. Overall, the movie made me proud of our sport. The audience was primarily non-skiers, unaware of Coombs’ fate. The theatre burst with gasps when it was announced that Coombs had died. At that moment I understood that this film was special– to ignite that type of reaction from a crowd of non-skiers, it certainly had some effect.

To view some online information on Steep, please visit:

http://www.thedocumentarygroup.com/featuredProject_about.php?pid=13
http://www.tribecafilmfestival.org/news-features-obenhaus.html

The last time I checked, spring had arrived. The crocuses were up, the Sox were on, my taxes were filed, and we had already celebrated the holy resurrection. Well, imagine my surprise when we found ourselves burried deep in winter at Killington on April 15th. As our fearless gnar leader Ben would say, unruly Ol’ Man Winter was going to go out with a bang in spite of Mother Nature. The same Nor’easter that flooded coastal towns and spoiled the plans of many Boston Marathon runners was nothing but a gift for anyone “stuck” in the mountains that weekend. Lucky us.

Ben and Craig showed up at my place at about 6:15 am Saturday. Fueled by homemade breakfast-to-go and plenty of V2O we overcame our morning after syndrome (or was I the only one spinning?) and got stoked for what could be our last ski weekend of the year. Even without long tollbooth lines, it was a chatty ride with plenty of bantor and counseling, and plenty of music, per usual for the three of us.

To the tune of “Anywhere I Roam” (played for the third time) we rolled up to the mountain at about 9:15, to set eyes on a decently covered mountain . A previous storm that week had given us some new white stuff to play in, which under the spring sun turned wet and heavy by lunch. In his old-school wool sweater, on his 190s that kept tripping him up and plopping him into the slush, John lamented, “I bet I’m the only one on this mountain who smells like a sheep!” We got in some great turns in the Canyons that day and a lot of laughs on the lodge porch at lunch break.

Saturday was a tiring day of high-speed mogul maneuvering, thanks to Ben’s hooligan Cornell crew, but some Lookout wings followed by Pizza Jerks and shot-skis reinvigorated us.

Needless to say, we worked out some kinks and tore it up on the PB dance floor to make sure we would get a good night’s sleep. With a lead guitarist donned in long shiny blonde hair and a leopard silk shirt wailing out eighties jams, how can you help it? Rumors of the Nor’Easter had us raring to go for what was bound to be an incredible day on Sunday. Linds spoiled us with chocolate chip pancakes that morning - one of the only times I’ve had a real breakfast before skiing, which paid off big time. At about 11 o’clock , we braved the roads. We were shaken by an accident scene where we helped a couple climb out of their Jeep that had spun into a ditch as they left the Bear Mountain parking lot. Still, we headed slowly but surely in the opposite direction: to the mountain. The snow just kept coming down throughout the day, at about an inch per minute, it seemed. It was like Christmas used to be in the days of Currier and Ives.

We practically turned into snowmen on each chairlift ride.

Visibility was quite poor, but the heavenly conditions were worth the dizziness. All things considered, I felt like I was skiing in a dream. We saw less than ten other skiers on the hill that afternoon, a few of which shared our joyful stupor, exclaiming, “Why can’t this happen in November?” and even, “Hey, this is our trail, you guys take another!” And why not, each trail was as good as the next and there was plenty of open space. It was by far the best day at Killington all season. Bear was obviously still open, the lodge lost in a blur. The same lodge where we’d drunk beers in the sun, feet planted in the mud just two weeks before!

Disoriented by my sudden winter surroundings and new feeling underfoot, I sort of forgot how to ski, reverting to more perpendicular positioning of my body across the mountain. It was as if I were out there for the first time. Ben had to coach me through this, reminding me to point down the fall line and link my turns together just like usual, but I must admit it was foreign for me- my first real live powder. Besides, I’d seen what lies beneath: the rocks and grass I’d avoided with difficulty just the day before. With a boost in confidence, however, I soon realized that with champagne powder like this: anything becomes possible.

A few runs through the trees on Julio and Lowrider had me humming “Winter Wonderland” and wishing I really was out there for the first time and imagining that this was just the beginning of the season.

We started strategizing our plan of attack for Monday, since the snow showed no signs of stopping. My quads were aching and I wanted to save energy if we were really going to pull a hat-trick. Still, we made the most of the moment and we powered through until after 4:00. We received the lauditory “Last Chair” placard on our chair before heading down Outer Limits one last time and calling it a day.

We were able to ski right through the parking lot to the car.

Everyone at Lookout apres-ski was elated, toasting each other in celebration of the return of winter. Funny thing is: it was the smallest crowd I’ve seen there. The snow kept on falling throughout the evening and the wind blew it into big drifts up against the house. Fat flakes fell into my wine as I marinated in the hot tub for about three hours. Normally we wouldn’t be able to stand it that long, but daylight savings was in effect, plus power outages caused the temp to revert back to “econ” mode. Luckily the power came back on in time for our “Blood Diamond” movie night, but Ben joked that he’d be more affected by a film about “Blood Powder Skis”. You see, the focus on Monday’s epic potential never let up. The buzzkill is, as you must already know from the more punctual reporting of how the weekend went down in “The Surreality of April”, the mountain was closed due to rain and power outages and we were forced to head home to Boston. Good thing we milked Sunday for all it was worth. What a way to end the season. With a renewed love of Killington and a newfound intrigue for fresh, live-falling powder, I’m ready for next year. Too bad I might have to wait until April ‘08 for a replay of those conditions, but when it comes to Camp Killington, we’ll take whatever, whenever, and you know we’ll find a way to have a good time.

Ski resorts across North America close for a variety of reasons.  We’d like to think that they all keep their lifts spinning as long as the last remaining local with a season pass is willing to scrape the remaining bits of snow off the last trail.  While this is true for many resorts such as Squaw Valley, CA that consistently remains open until June or July, and Blackcomb, BC whose glacier is home to a number of summer freestyle ski camps, most resorts have some financial or operational chain in the chairlift gears.  Heavenly, CA leases it’s abundant acreage from the National Forrest, and must close in late April.  I had the pleasure of skiing Heavenly on closing day last year.  Every trail was open with total coverage, and there was even some fresh powder.  However, once April hits, the Bay Area faithful have other things on their mind from skiing and it is no longer profitable for Heavenly to operate.  Perhaps people need to recenter their winter expectations given that there wasn’t enough snow in Tahoe to really ski until early January this year.

East coast resorts are a bit more flexible.  They can operate under limited capacity, readily adapting their scheduled closing dates to various sections of the mountain as weather and, more importantly, expected ticket sales permit.  Locals and other season pass holders might bring excitement and soulfulness to a mountain clinging to winter, but they don’t bring much marginal revenue as they are unlikely to spend much on 10 dollar burgers,  private ski school lessons, and certainly not lift tickets.  Killington is a classic example.  They really do their best to open early and close late.  However, all of this can severely play with one’s emotions as we try to say goodbye to winter and skiing in our own ways, and prepare for a summer of whatever gets us to the next winter.

During our last few terrain park runs on the weekend of the infamous Bear Mountain Mogul Challenge, the sun was blazing, melting what seemed to be the last of the snow off the mountain.  Bear Mountain had one more scheduled weekend to host a snowboard competition, but the bare spots on Outer Limits were beginning to indicate this would be the last great weekend of bump skiing.  That afternoon, I made my piece with Outer Limits and the Dream Maker terrain park, preparing for my last dose of Bear Mountain adrenaline.

The next weekend, April 7, I was down in Washington, DC enjoying Greek Easter (as much as a Jew amidst the Passover crunch can) with Lauren’s family.  DC in April is usually warm and sunny with temps in the 70’s at least.  However, we woke up Saturday morning to a legit coat of snow on the ground.  I had to see what was going on up North.  Killington and the rest of its 4000 foot friends were getting a nice dose of snow.  I was a bit sad not to be taking part in it, but as the reports came in, it became clear that winter was settling back in.  The following weekend was beginning to look more promising.

As I tracked the reports that week, a Nor’ Easter was building, preparing to hammer the Northeast with some sort of precipitation.  At first, the forecast was for rain, but as the week progressed, it slowly looked as though the higher elevations would receive snow.  Thursday into Friday Killington got pounded by 22 inches of heavy wet spring snow, filling in bare spots, and piling up in the shade protected trees.  I knew the weekend would be good.  Another, and even bigger storm was due to come in Sunday morning so I decided to skip Marathon Monday (that is huge), and stay Sunday night.  Saturday itself was an excellent day of skiing.  Soft moguls and excellent tree skiing, not to mention Bear Mountain open again, terrain parks and all.  However we were all holding our breath for Sunday and Monday.  Would the storm bring rain or snow? and how much?

After a raging night of head-banging to an 80’s cover band at the Barrel, we woke up late Sunday morning to Lindsay’s chocolate pancakes, and headed to the mountain just as the snow began to fall.  We knew the storm was for-real when we passed a Jeep nose-down in a ditch on the way to Bear.  The snow really started coming down hard around mid day.  The powder built up in the trees, and in the mogul troughs.  It was one of the very best days of the season, and the snow was surprisingly dry.  The feeling of excitement was compounded by the anticipation of the snow continuing overnight, providing an additional 1-2 feet.    Our final two runs down outer limits involved more inches of new snow than there were people on the trail. Epic.  The parking lot had more coverage than the main cruisers had during Christmas and we skied back to the car.  The snow continued to fall during a 3 hour hot tub session and perilous drive to Sushi Yoshi for the end-of-season half-price party.  It certainly didn’t feel like the end of season.   Previous years on that night, I would be going to sleep anticipating Marathon Monday in the sun, not a powder day.

The euphoria of our extended winter was yanked away faster than I ever imagined possible.  Sometime that night, Mother Nature came home and ended Old Man Winter’s drunken festivities.  I woke up to the dreadful sound of rain on the hot tub cover.  Ok, no need to panic.  It’s probably still snowing on the mountain.  I hurried upstairs to check the resort channel.  It was out.  I called the mountain phone, no answer.   I finally got through to someone who informed me that the power had gone out across areas of Southern Vermont due to tornadoes, wind, heavy snow,  and rain.  Just to give it a shot, we loaded the car and headed for the base area.  They stopped us at the parking lot entrance; the mountain was closed for the day due to power.  I could have lived with that if it had been raining, but it was clearly still snowing hard up on the mountain.  It was a disaster.   Katie and I consoled ourselves with the fact that we had had an epic day the day before, and headed back to Boston to watch the drunk people cheer on the stragglers in the Marathon, by far my favorite part.

The next weekend in Boston was warm, temps in the 70’s.  Monday was even warmer, reaching the mid 80’s.  In addition, there was a nice south wind.  Joe and I decided to go to Revere and at least fly our kites and maybe ride if the water wasn’t too cold.  The wind was nuking, holding steady at above 20mph, perfect for Joe’s new Cabrinha Crossbow 9m kite.  We enjoyed some good kitesurfing for late April.  In retrospect we were really stupid for not wearing wet suits in the 50 degree water.  It could have ended rather badly.  Luckily it didn’t, and I headed back into town to go the Red Sox game.

This past weekend, it was back to skiing and the (now) annual trip to hike Tuckerman’s Ravine on Mt. Washington.   The trip is supposed to be a magnificent close to the season with sunshine, excellent snow, and great crowds and festivities.  However we got caught in some serious rain, and the boot pack up the bowl was seriously hairball.  There were very few people in the bowl, and festive is not a word I would use to describe it.  In fact, it was one of the most inhospitable environments I had experienced of late.  Nevertheless we had a great time.  The abundant snowfall to that point had allowed us to ski down almost all the way to the parking lot.  Cold and wet, we retreated to the Penguin Ski club for a serious grill fest involving steak, chicken, burgers, potatoes and a few beverages.

My final act of the ski season was going to be cutting my hair that I’d been growing since the season started.  The venture started because my barber was going to be away in Jamaica for several months, and in the end I decided to let it go until after skiing was done.  So here I am, in the first minute of May 1, hair short again, and 42 days of amazing skiing under my belt.  But is skiing really over?  I have one more chance to throw down a few turns and jumps in Banff in a week in May during the World Wide Web Conference.   The debate in my head has been whether or not lugging my ski gear on the plane is worth one day of decent spring skiing out West.  But is that really what I’m vacillating over?  Perhaps I’m emotionally drained from the ski season that just keeps coming and going.  The hair is cut, the kiteboarding gear is in the car, and warm temps are in the forecast for Boston.  I’ll check the ski report before I head to Canada, but I’m sure I won’t be able to resist another day of the best outdoor activity on the planet.

Not everyone wants to jump off cliffs. Some people just want to ski. Have some fun. Make good turns. Enjoy the moment without any hassles. At the end of the day, do it just one more time. Stop. Step out. Turn around. Look back. And know there is only one rush that comes close to doing the fall line. He’s behind me.

{ I wish I could claim this as my writing. It’s not… from a gear ad about 15 years ago. Still rings true. }

After an awesome season at Killington, friend and site founder Ben mentioned I should chronicle a typical weekend at our ski house, Camp Killington.  I agreed and after a little brainstorming on company time, came up with my username and begin writing.  This year was my first time doing a ski house (why didn’t I do this last year?!) and I spent 8 incredible weekends up there, making new friends and lasting memories.  I can’t imagine a better way to spend the winter, and as I must have said several times in the hot tub, this is living…

A weekend spent in the Green Mountains at Camp Killington promises to be filled with great times, funny stories, a little debauchery, and most likely, two days of great skiing.  It all begins with the drive up which usually offers a chance to bond with fellow campers or their guests as well as time to rock out to some fresh mix CDs or ski house favorites.  These generally consist of tracks from Swollen Members, Wolfmother, Citizen Cope, Phish, and others – always including a few new songs taken from the year’s ski films.

Upon arrival there a few musts.  A stop for a couple slices at Pizza Jerks is almost an automatic, but equally good choices are Lookout (for the pulled pork sandwich or the cheesteak) or The Outback for a gourmet pizza and couple brews.  Another favorite stop before getting to the house is Aspen East ski shop on Route 4.  Home to great deals in March and April and the best ski tune all season, you’re pretty likely to come away with a solid purchase on any given visit.  Ben is on a first name basis with the women who work here, both young and old.  On to the house where cold beer left over from the previous weekend awaits…

A quick unloading of the car (leaving your boots in there overnight will leave them cold and stiff in the morning – total rookie move, don’t be a gaper) and it’s time for some adult beverages.  Depending on arrival time and the mood of the campers, there are two options for Friday nights:  out to the bar or chill session at home.  The chill sesh usually consists of some couch time in front of a couple Entourage episodes or one of the TGR (Teton Gravity Research) or Matchstick Productions ski movies.  Beers in the hot tub is also a great choice and has been known to last for a couple hours –making it a marathon HT session.

When the excitement level is high (most Fridays), or if there are a bunch of new guests, we head straight to the Pickle Barrel to catch at least one set by the band, although we often close the place down, unintentionally.  Before leaving though, make sure you’re in the Pickle uniform (which really only applies to guys):  jeans, long sleeve thermal with a t-shirt over it, backwards baseball cap or winter beanie optional.  Then gather with campers for a ski shot or two (Kim, our house mom/organizer took two old skis and glued four shot glasses to each thereby creating slightly awkward but fun group shot taking).  After capturing the festivities on numerous digital cameras, head out the door sans jacket.  It’s not worth bringing a coat since we at Camp Killington don’t wait in the line out front, we enter through the back door, season’s pass in hand.  Plus the coat check is a nightmare when it’s time to leave.  The season’s pass by the way, gets you in cover-charge free all season, let’s you bring a guest for free on Fridays, and allows you to enter through the back… definitely a wise pickup in December.

Saturday mornings generally begin around 7:30, even earlier if it’s a powder day.  Get your gear on, pound a vitamin water (an absolute life saver for ski weekends) and head to the mountain.  Breakfast is overrated; you can eat a granola bar on the lift.  Or in Ben’s case, not eat anything all day until happy hour.  Most of us prefer a quick stop for lunch though and the chili and cheeseburgers at Killington don’t disappoint.  On cold days, snag a free hot cocoa by filling out a survey for one the Killington ambassadors – I think we had two girls in our house this year who were ambassadors.

After skiing all day Saturday, there are few things better than cold beer and free wings.  So meet everyone at Lookout (a house favorite this year) around 4pm for a great après ski.  Again, leave the jacket in the car.  It’ll be crowded and warm inside and you’ll have your hands full with tasty wings and pints of Long Trail Ale.  Another good choice, although less often visited, is the Wobbly Barn where there’s live music and a free nacho bar!  Following a solid après ski with friends where you relive the day (hopefully it was epic!), head back to the house and hit the hot tub or hang out upstairs by the fire.  First timers may feel the need to nap at this point… which is ok - as long as you’re up by dinner and rally to make it a big night at the Pickle.  Speaking of dinner…

Saturday night is family dinner time at Camp Killington!  Festive meals have ranged from taco night to lasagna (Italian always works) to an end of the season “best of” that included boneless buffalo wings, fried dumplings, seven layer nacho dip, penne alla vodka, lasagna, and salad.  The dinner is especially festive when it’s a birthday weekend for one of the campers and a few of the girls take time to bake a cake.  Of course beer, wine, and/or red bull and vodka begin flowing during dinner and set the stage for the pre-game… once the table is cleared, the stereo is cranked and flip cup or beirut ensues.  Around 10pm knock back a few ski shots (often yager), and pile into your designated driver’s car or the Barrel Rider (a van service that picks up bar patrons).  We tend to pack ourselves into Kim’s forerunner with a couple road sodas.

Hopefully you ski at least a half day on Sunday, but by noon we all inevitably start thinking about the drive home.  The trip back is not without highlights though.  On the way out, you may want to hit up Pizza Jerks one more time for a couple slices.  Even better is a stop at the Long Trail brewery, twenty minutes down Route 4 where they have great burgers, sandwiches and the very best wings of Killington.  Both styles, buffalo and teriyaki are awesome and gynormous.  Six-packs of the Long Trail varieties are a great pickup and at $7, a steal compared to Boston or New York prices.  After a few group pictures at the table or on Long Trail’s outdoor porch, it’s time to hit the road.  You’ll probably spend the next couple days recovering, but by Wednesday you’ll be psyched for another weekend at Camp Killington.

For skiing 17 days at Killington, VT so far this year, I have skied relatively few moguls compared to previous seasons. Few of the other skiers in Camp Killington are really into moguls except for Jenny (who really isn’t in the house) and Dave (whose injury prevented him from really digging in this year). I also focused a lot of my efforts on the Terrain Park, Halfpipe and learning to ski switch (backwards) with more confidence. However I’d always wanted to try the Bear Mountain mogul challenge, very prestigious local mogul skiing event on Killington’s famous bump run, and my namesake, ‘Outer Limits’. My previous two years of doing Killington ski houses I decided not to partake. This year, however, I’d been going back and forth. I decided I’d checkout the US National Freestyle Championships the weekend before the local comp, and make my decision afterward.

I must say I was both daunted and inspired by the performance the US Ski Team members and unknowns alike threw down on Outer Limits. I watched the dual mogul event from the side of the course with d-lo and Curt. The air these guys were getting was insane for a mogul run. They were bombing down at breakneck speeds of 30+ mph, and launching huge inverted tricks off the jumps. At points they were 20+ feet of the ground, and traveling more than twice that distance down the course, often landing in the moguls (sometimes more successfully than others).